


i know what you did last summer

by soapyconnor



Series: wolf, stag, dove [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Pregnancy, both john and arthur are ooc somewhat, hi arthur and john dont know how to name a baby, i dont know what else to tag sorry, if ya dont like it wellllllll..........too bad!!!!, trans john marston
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-19 03:48:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19967539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soapyconnor/pseuds/soapyconnor
Summary: john returns after a year.





	i know what you did last summer

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tunglr @johnsmarstons  
> not beta'd

Slowly removing his hat from his head, Arthur cracked open an eye when he heard the shouts of excitement. He turned onto his side, his back to the rest of the camp, ignoring whatever the hell they were talking about until he heard someone shout, “ _John_!”

Shooting upright, Arthur hurriedly shoved his boots on and headed out of his tent, eyeing the gathered group. Sure enough, in the middle of the circle, stood John, a small smile on his face. From afar, he looked . . . all right, to say the least. John had clearly lost some weight and he looked exhausted, but Arthur found it hard to have any sympathy for him. There was a thing of black fabric wrapped around his torso like a sling, and Arthur wondered, only out of sheer curiosity, if he had hurt himself while he was away—

“A _baby_!” Tilly yelled, before she and the other woman began to coo. The men went quiet, glancing at each other in shock as John slowly tugged down the fabric, revealing a large tuft of brown hair and a tiny, pink face. “Can I hold her?” Tilly asked, moving in close. “Please, can I hold her?”

Arthur’s heart was pounding loudly in his chest, and he felt Hosea and Dutch’s gaze on him. He didn’t move any closer; he wasn’t even sure that this was even _happening_. He swallowed harshly, noticing that the men had turned their gaze on him as well. Everyone knew of him and John—everyone knew of John’s condition. No one cared, there was no room _to_ care. But now—fuck, now they all knew—what—what _he_ —

Snapping out of his thoughts, Arthur began to slowly approach the group, his entire body tense, and ready to spring. John looked up, and chewed on his bottom lip as he watched him approach. They stood within an arm’s length of each other, just staring at one another. The baby in John’s arms shifted, and let out a loud yawn. Abigail and Jack were to his right, watching Arthur carefully.

Arthur swallowed heavily. Someone let out a snort. “Go on and speak there, Arthur.” _Javier_. He was nudged gently at the hip, and Arthur glanced over his shoulder, to see Hosea giving him a small nod.

Dutch clasped a hand on John’s shoulder. “It’s good to have you back, son. And she,” he said, leaning over his shoulder to peer down at the sleeping form, “Is absolutely beautiful . . .” He turned to the rest of the gang. “I’m sure John would be glad t’ let y’all see her and hold her once they get settled in and are well rested. For now, we need to get back t’ work.”

Arthur didn’t move as people came up individually to congratulate John, some even turning and saying the same to Arthur. His face flushed with each compliment, and his heart continued to _thu-thump_.

Arthur swallowed as Abigail leaned over, told John that his daughter was _beautiful,_ and kissed his cheek, murmuring how he needed to come and visit Jack when he was feeling better. John nodded, smiling at her and patting Jack on the head before he turned to Arthur.

They stared at each other, and Arthur bit down harshly on his lip. He cleared his throat, and jerked his head. “Ah . . . my tent—”

“Lead the way.” John adjusted the baby against his chest, and tugged the fabric up to block her face from the sun. They headed towards the tent, with Arthur glancing over his shoulder every so often, trying to remind himself that it was _real_.

He watched as John got himself comfortable on the cot, jumping when the baby sniffled and wailed. John gently shushed her, rocking her briefly before he unbuttoned his shirt. Arthur blushed, his gaze shying away. He remembered watching John do this with Jack not too long ago, but it still felt . . . odd.

Arthur twiddled his thumbs, staring down at his boots. John wouldn’t look at him—and it set his teeth on edge. If they were going to talk, he wanted to be able to look each other in the eye. Yet again, neither of them was really good with words. Arthur scratched at the bridge of his nose, listening to the soft sounds the babe was making. John hummed, slowly rocking her back and forth, patting the baby’s bottom gently. The silencer seemed to stretch immeasurably between the two of them, and the sound of the camp resuming to normal. Arthur closed his eyes, feeling his heart slowly steady out.

“Arthur—”

“John, I—”

Arthur clenched the fabric above his knees, before he slowly wiped his palms. He swallowed, and licked his lips. John dipped his head down, looking slightly ashamed. “I guess you should go first,” Arthur murmured. “After all, ya did leave me for a year.”

“Arthur . . .” John shook his head, slowly lowering the baby and buttoning up his shirt. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t . . .” There was a small moment of silence. “Whatever you _thought_ it was, it’s not. That’s not why I left.”

Arthur stared at the baby, and muttered, “I think the reason I’m thinking is the truth.”

“Yeah, but whatever you think the circumstances are—”

“Stop. Just . . . just say what ya need too.”

John took a deep breath, grip tightening on the baby. He sniffed, and gave himself a moment to think, before he raised his head. “When I left, I had just found out I was pregnant. I was . . . was scared, t’ say the least. Didn’t know how Dutch was gon’ react, how you was gon’ react. Everyone was understandin’ with Jack, but a second time? Two years later? Don’ think nobody could look past that. I needed . . . some time. To wrap my head around it. By then, I was already close t’ giving birth and I wasn’t gonna come back like that. Wasn’t gonna . . . make y’all feel like you need t’ take me back because I was gonna pop.” John wormed his bottom lip between his teeth. “That’s why I left. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Arthur paused, and then inhaled sharply. “You could of told me. I’d would have gone with ya. You didn’t need to do it alone.” Then, he waved a hand. “An’ giving birth like that? On your own and in the wilderness? You could’ve killed yourself, or her.”

“Didn’t want ya t’ pick between me or Dutch.” John shrugged. “Besides, that would’ve been too dangerous. Two men, traveling alone? Then two men and a _baby_? Would’ve brought too much attention.”

Arthur leaned back, tearing his eyes away from the prone bundle laid against John’s chest. “So, what? Ya come back and want back in? Gon’ give this one to Abigail, too?”

John straightened. “What? No, I ain’t doin’ that. This baby . . . She’s _ours_ , Arthur. She’s _ours_ , and, quite frankly, I don’t care what the others think or say.” He bowed his head, his hat obscuring his gaze. “I want t’ raise her with _you_. That’s why I came back. I couldn’t . . . couldn’t do it. Not without my family here.” Then, he let out a quiet chuckle. “I ain’t even named ‘er yet.”

Arthur perked up. “You haven’t? What the hell, John. Just been carryin’ around a nameless baby with ya for three months?” His heart fluttered as John moved the fabric of his sling, and he caught a glimpse of the tiny baby’s face. Despite his words, he was grateful John didn’t name her. He didn’t get to miss out on _everything_.

John looked down at the baby, and replied, “I wanted you t’ help me name her. I didn’t want to take that away from ya.” He glanced up, then down once more, before he slowly removed the baby from the sling, and held her out. Arthur blinked, realizing that she was wrapped up in one of his old shirts. John blushed. “I, uh—”

“I know why ya did it,” he murmured, as he took her into his arms. He adjusted her, so she was lying flat against his chest, and she curled right in, her ear pressing flat against the spot above his heart. A tiny fist curled into his shirt. His mind shot to Isaac, and for a brief moment, pain surged through his chest. Arthur bowed his head, nosing at the tiny curls on her head, and told himself, _You can do better this time._ “Still . . . this don’t mean I’m happy about it, or will forgive ya so soon. What ya did . . . it was dumb. Real dumb.” John’s face flushed, and he nodded, bowing his head and shifting on the floor. Arthur gently stroked her back, and he took pity on John. He reached out, placing a hand on his knee. “I’ll get over it quickly.”

John relaxed, and let out a snort. “Sure, ya will. Can’t wait for her to be twenty-three and you still being mad at me for this.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Not like you wouldn’t deserve it.” He pointed out, nudging him gently with his foot.

John nodded, rolling his shoulder as he slumped down. He pressed the side of his head against his curled fist, a soft smiling spreading across his face. He let out a soft snort, before he scratched his nose. “We got t’ name her still.”

Arthur’s mouth twitched. “Got any names?”

“No. Do you?”

Arthur peered down at the baby. There was a small pause.

“Well, fuck.”

Arthur woke up, rubbing at his eyes as he heard the baby cry out. It had been little over a week since John had returned, and they still had been unable to come up with a name for her. John groaned next to him, and rolled over, rubbing at his chest. “I just fed her, she can’t be hungry again,” John whined.

Seeing how red and swollen John’s nipples were, Arthur took pity on him. “I’ll take her for a walk, see if she’s just restless.” He patted his shoulder. “Go on back t’ sleep. No need for both of us to be up.”

“What if she is hungry?”

“Then I’ll wake you up. I’m gonna give it time, though.” Climbing out of the cot, and clambering over John, he heard over to the small bassinet that held his daughter. Cradling her close to his chest, he made his way out of the tent and headed to the edge of camp, making sure to hide her cries from the others, not wanting anyone to wake up. He stopped beneath a tree, gently rocking her and pressing his nose against the top of her head. Eventually, her cries subsided and she fell asleep against his chest. Letting out a small sigh, he headed back into camp, but decided not to head back to his tent right away, heading towards the dimming fire.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Arthur jumped, spotting the bent over figure by the fire, a guitar lying next to the figure. Slowly, he relaxed and nodded to Javier, sitting down next to him. “Nah. More like she couldn’t,” he said, motioning to the baby.

Javier chuckled, and held out his arms. Arthur handed her over easily, and the baby snuggled into his chest immediately. “I see . . .” he hummed, and began to sing softly to her. The baby looked content, despite being fast asleep. “Still got no name for her?”

Arthur shook his head. “You know John and I. Bad with names. Only girl names I can really think of are the ones the girls here have, and we can’t . . . well . . .”

“I get you,” Javier said, before looking down at the baby girl. “But you’re gonna have to figure out _something_.”

Arthur waved a hand. “Dutch and Hosea have been on us since John returned. Everyone’s offered names, but yet, none of them feel right . . .” Arthur glanced at Javier, watching him carefully before his eyes fell on his daughter. “You got any ideas?”

Javier snorted. “I don’t know of many English names.”

“We’ll take anything at this point.”

Javier hummed and looked down at the baby. He gently rocked her in his arms, and Arthur watched the dimming fire. He wasn’t sure how much time passed—people came and went from their tents, going to relieve themselves in the forest before returning. Some stopped, pausing by the fire to have a chat.

Arthur stretched, thinking that Javier had fallen asleep, and he knew they needed to return to the tent before John woke up. Bending to scoop the babe from Javier’s arms, he jumped when the man looked up at him, brown eyes wide. “Uh—”

“Eileen.”

Blinking rapidly, Arthur cleared his throat as Javier handed the baby back over. “Huh?”

“Her name. Eileen.”

Pausing once more, Arthur gave Javier a nod. “We’ll consider it,” he said, before patting the man’s shoulder. “Get some rest, Javier.”

Javier slumped against the log, yawning and falling asleep quickly. Quietly, Arthur returned to his tent, surprised to find John awake. John held out his arms expectantly, and he cooed down at his baby girl when she was placed comfortably in them. “Why’re you up?”

John looked up, and his face flushed. “Ah . . . well . . . Got nervous when I saw you two weren’t back. Couldn’t really go back to sleep knowing you two weren’t here.” Arthur nodded, and sat down next to John, who immediately leaned against him. “What’s with that look on your face?”

“I asked Javier for name ideas.” John arched an eyebrow, but said nothing. “He gave me one . . . What do you think of Eileen?”

John blinked, then bowed his head, eyebrows furrowing for a bit. He then looked back up, and shrugged. “Better than any other name we were offered.”

“So . . . Eileen, then?”

John snorted. “Eileen it is.”


End file.
